A Trip to London with Consequences
by Healer Pomfrey
Summary: Minerva McGonagall notices a small black cat taking a nap at an unfortunate spot; moreover, the cat doesn't smell like a real cat but rather seems to be an Animagus. Set when Harry is seven; Completely AU, partly OOC, abuse!Dursleys, sick!Harry, MM/AD


**A Trip to London with Consequences  
**

**by Healer Pomfrey**

_All recognizable characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am not earning anything by writing this story._

_I am not a native speaker of English. Please excuse my mistakes._

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**For Minerva McGonagall 62!**

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Seven-year-old Harry let himself sink onto his mattress in exhaustion and anticipation. Tomorrow, his class was going to visit the British Museum in London. Everyone had been talking about the trip for ages, so that he was very much looking forward to it and couldn't wait for the morning to come.

Unfortunately, on this evening sleep didn't come easily. He tossed around in his bed until he noticed that his head began to hurt. Silently whimpering, he turned to the wall, reaching out for the spider, his good and only friend that was sitting on the wall right next to him.

"We're going to the museum tomorrow," he whispered to the spider, noticing in horror that his throat was getting sore as well. '_Oh no; I can't get sick now_,' he thought, terrified. '_I just can't miss the trip tomorrow_.'

However, when Petunia hammered at his door and ordered him to make breakfast in the morning, Harry realised immediately that he was sick. His throat was so sore that he could barely swallow, and he had a terrible headache. '_It doesn't matter; we're going to London today_,' he thought happily. As fast as he could in spite of feeling unwell, he dressed and trailed into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Aunt Petunia," he said in a small voice, noticing that it even hurt to speak.

"Make eggs, but hurry up; Uncle Vernon and Dudley will be here in a few minutes," Petunia instructed the boy.

Harry obediently opened the fridge, shivering violently as he felt the cold air against his skin. He quickly closed the door and fried the eggs, unaware of the fact that Petunia was observing him closely. When Harry placed the plates with the eggs and toast on the table, Petunia took in his deeply flushed cheeks in concern.

"Harry, are you sick?" she asked sharply, extending a hand to feel the boy's forehead.

"I'm fine," Harry replied too quickly, flinching back, before his aunt could touch him. '_Why does she even ask? She doesn't care anyway_,' he wondered, knowing from experience that Petunia used to ignore him when he was sick.

"Harry, come here," Petunia said sternly and placed her hand on his forehead as soon as he hesitantly stepped over. "You feel a bit hot," she said, frowning. "Go and get the thermometer from the bathroom, so I can take your temperature," she instructed him firmly.

"No, I'm fine," Harry protested vehemently, proceeding to gather forks and spoons.

"I don't want your teacher to call me and give out about calling Child Services again, because I sent you to school with a fever yet again," Petunia hissed in an upset voice. "Now go and fetch the thermometer."

"I don't have a fever," Harry said stubbornly, although he had to admit to himself that he wasn't feeling overly well. Seeing his aunt glare at him, he quickly left the kitchen and dragged himself upstairs to the bathroom. _'I'll go to school in any case_,' he resolved. '_I'm not going to miss the trip to the museum. I've never been to a museum before, and the Dursleys surely won't take me to any_.' Back in the kitchen, he placed the glassy device on the table and quickly stepped away, busying himself making coffee for his uncle, who just entered the kitchen.

"The boy is sick, but he won't let me check on him," Petunia complained immediately, causing Vernon to glare at Harry.

"Now sit down here you good-for-nothing freak. We won't have your teacher phone us again," he roared as he reached out and pulled Harry onto a chair. "Now open up, you ungrateful little urchin."

Harry wearily opened his mouth, and Petunia shoved the thermometer into his mouth, while Vernon restricted him to the seat, apparently knowing that he was on the verge of trying to flee to the solace of his cupboard. The cold touch inside his hot mouth made him shiver violently, and he could hardly suppress the tears, while he feverishly searched his mind for a way to get to school even if he wasn't allowed to leave his cupboard.

"38.5," Petunia said as she finally pulled the annoying device out. "You are sick. Go and stay in your cupboard, so that you don't infest any of us, boy," she instructed Harry and turned to Vernon. "Please tell the teacher that he won't come today when you take Dudley to school. I'm going to attend a meeting of our garden group the whole day, so I don't care if the freak is in his cupboard."

Silently crying, Harry retreated to his cupboard, hoping that his relatives would forget to lock him in. He listened to the sounds coming from the hall, heard how Dudley cheered upon hearing that he was sick and not allowed to attend the trip, and finally he heard the front door close and the car drive away. Knowing that his aunt would go upstairs to get ready for her garden meeting soon, he dragged himself out of bed and waited in front of the cupboard door, until he heard Petunia's steps on the stairs. He quickly left the house, glad that no one had remembered to lock him in.

'_I'm probably running late_,' he thought, wondering if he should change into his cat form, which he had discovered two years earlier, when he had suddenly transformed into a cat in order to escape from Dudley and his gang. '_I'll probably be faster and maybe I feel better then_,' he thought and concentrated on his cat form. Instants later, a small, black cat with a bit of white fur on his forehead and emerald green eyes was running along the street. By the time he reached the school, where he quickly changed back into his human form behind a bush, the bus was just about to leave.

"I thought you were sick, Harry," the teacher said, eyeing him in concern.

"No, I wasn't feeling well in the morning, but I'm better now," Harry lied, gasping for air.

"That's good then. You must have run very quickly," the teacher said compassionately, taking in his ragged breathing and flushed cheeks.

"Yes," Harry lied again and quickly boarded the bus, sitting in the last empty row, which was right next to his teacher. An instant later, the bus left, and Harry sighed in relief, thinking, '_I managed to go on the trip_.' However, with the movements of the bus, his headache became worse quickly, and after a short time, he just closed his achy eyes, hoping to fall asleep, so that he didn't feel the pain anymore.

The teacher eyed Harry in concern, knowing him too well to believe that he was fully all right, and when he fell asleep, his head came to rest on her shoulder, and she could feel the heat that he radiated and heard his ragged breathing. She carefully felt his forehead and let out a long sigh. It was not the first time that Harry had come to school sick and with a high fever, and she and the school nurse had pondered to ask Child Services to investigate about his living conditions before. However, there was nothing that she could do about it now, and the child was clearly too ill to walk through the museum. By the time the bus reached the British Museum, she woke him up and said, "Harry, I believe that you're too ill to go into the museum. I'm going to phone your uncle and ask him to pick you up. He works in London, doesn't he?"

Feeling too miserable to protest, Harry merely mumbled, "Yeah."

The teacher gently helped Harry out of the bus and ushered the group into the museum, where she made the children wait and addressed someone at the information desk. A short while later, a nice looking woman came and took Harry into a small room that was only furnished with a green bed and one chair. She gently helped him to lie down, and Harry felt very grateful to be able to stretch out on the bed. '_Feels good, and they're so nice_,' he thought, before he became upset at the thought, '_Oh no, she said she was going to call Uncle Vernon to fetch me_.' He flinched back badly when the kind woman placed a wet towel on his forehead that felt very soothing to his hot skin.

"He is burning up," the woman said to the teacher, who just entered the room and eyed Harry in concern.

"I noticed that on the way here," the teacher replied and knelt next to Harry. "Harry, your uncle is going to pick you up and take you home in a few minutes. All right?"

"Thank you," Harry said quietly, looking at the teacher from half-open glassy eyes.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. Get well soon," the teacher said and quickly left the room to return to her other pupils.

Harry drifted in and out of sleep, until he heard Uncle Vernon's angry voice. "Why do I have to pick the boy up? He was supposed to stay at home, the ungrateful brat," he bellowed.

"I'm sorry," Harry replied in a small voice when Vernon pulled him off the bed and out of the museum to his car, his wrist in a firm grip.

"You'll get what you deserve at home," Vernon threatened as he drove through the streets of London in a high speed. "However, I have to go back to work first. You must wait in the car, and don't you dare touch anything," he added, waving his wrist at the boy.

"I won't," Harry whispered, feeling strangely relieved when Vernon vanished from the sight. He stretched out on the back seat and closed his eyes, hoping that he would feel better soon. However, when he woke up after a few hours, the air in the car was very hot and stuffy, and he felt hot and cold at the same time. '_I'm so thirsty_,' he thought. '_I must get out of here and try to find something to drink_.' He feverishly tried to open the doors in vain and was just on the verge of giving up when he managed to pull down the window right next to him. '_If I change into the cat, I'll fit through it_,' he thought, and if someone looked out of the window of the huge business building a few minutes later, he would have seen a small black cat slowly make its way out of the parking area.

Harry dragged himself out onto the street and greedily slurped the water out of a small puddle, before he collapsed in exhaustion, unaware of the fact that hundreds of people, who hurried along the street, carefully stepped around him, wondering why the small cat had chosen such an unfortunate spot to take a nap.

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Among the people, who walked around Harry, was Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Transfiguration teacher and Head of Gryffindor at Hogwarts. She was on her way from Diagon Alley to a small Muggle sweets shop to buy her husband's favourite Muggle sweets, gummy pandas with liquorice ears. As a cat Animagus, she was aware that something had to be very wrong with the small cat that was lying in the middle of the pavement, breathing much too fast. '_The cat looks well cared for; she seems not to be living on the streets_,' she thought, wondering if she should transform and usher the smaller animal to a smaller side street to rest. She quickly stepped into an entrance and hurriedly transformed into her Animagus form, before she walked beside the smaller cat and sniffled.

'_It's a male cat, but he seems to be ill_,' she thought, wondering if her senses were betraying her or if the cat in front of her was an Animagus as well. '_He smells strange, not like a real cat_,' she thought, '_but maybe I'm mistaken_.' She carefully nudged the cat awake, purring gently.

=Wake up, little one. This place is much too dangerous to sleep,= she told the other cat in a soft voice.

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Harry lazily opened his eyes, letting out a few harsh coughs, before he noticed the tabby cat that was sitting in front of him, eyeing him in concern.

=Are you sick?= the older cat enquired, giving him a sharp look.

'_She's an old cat lady, but she seems very nice_,' Harry realised and nodded miserably, wincing at the pain, which the small movement caused his head.

=Is there anything I can do to help you?= Minerva enquired, adding quietly, =I am not a real cat, but a human in my feline form. Excuse me for being impolite, but are you a real cat?=

'_She is a human like me?_' Harry mused in disbelief, feeling very relieved when the tabby cat continued to speak. =I am a human as well,= he hesitantly admitted, sensing that the older cat wouldn't think that he was a freak if she was able to do the same strange thing.

=So you're a little boy,= Minerva said thoughtfully. =Would you mind telling me your name?=

=I'm Harry,= Harry replied quietly, adding to himself, '_the good for nothing freak and a burden to all the good people_.' He let out a few more harsh coughs, so that he missed the terrified look, which he received from the older cat.

=Harry?= Minerva asked, horrified. =Why did you run away from your relatives, sweetie? What happened?=

=Why do you know?= Harry's thoughts went haywire. =Please don't take me back there. They hate me, and now they're going to be even more angry.= He quietly told the other cat what had happened in the morning.

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Minerva was shocked. '_Can that really be Harry?' _she wondered, giving the small cat a sharp look._ 'Of course; he has his green eyes; it's only that they're clouded and dull from the fever. But how can Petunia and her husband behave like this towards Harry? He was and still seems to be such a sweet child_,' she thought. '_And Albus always reassured me that he was safe and sound with his relatives. Anyway, he seems to be very ill, so I should take him with me, and then we'll see what to do about the matter with the Dursleys. Leaving a sick child in a locked car in this summer heat is clearly child abuse. Maybe Albus will see reason and finally allow me to keep him_.'

She told the smaller cat to wait for a moment, while she was going to transform into her human form, so that she could pick him up and take him home. Harry gratefully agreed, looking up anxiously when an older woman came back and gently scooped him up in her arms. "Don't worry, Harry; everything will be all right," she whispered to the small cat in a soothing voice as she cradled him close. She carefully pressed his left front paw against her wedding ring, before she whispered the incantation, "The Dumbledores' lair."

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Harry closed his eyes in shock when he all of a sudden felt a strange pull behind his navel, and the world began to turn around faster and faster, before everything turned black. Before he knew what happened, the older woman's kind voice penetrated his ears.

"Harry, I'm going to put you to bed and change you back into your human form; all right?"

Harry lazily opened his eyes just a little bit, seeing that the woman was now dressed in what seemed to be a dark green one piece or coat. He quietly whispered his agreement and allowed the woman to carry him into her bedroom and place him on the softest bed that he could imagine. It was covered by burgundy covers, and he carefully pulled in his claws as to not accidentally scratch the pretty quilt. To his surprise, the woman pulled the covers of the other side of the bed back, before she placed him on a fluffy, white pillow.

"Now I'm going to change you back," she announced, only interrupting himself when a very old man entered the bedroom.

"Oh Albus, thank Merlin you're here," the woman said, sounding very relieved.

'_Who is Merlin, and who is that man? He looks like an angel in his baby blue dress_,' Harry mused wearily, not feeling all too comfortable with a man nearby as it reminded him how angry Uncle Vernon would be when he met him again. Deep in thoughts, he missed part of the conversation between the two adults.

"Harry Potter?" the old man asked in apparent surprise. "But he is supposed to be with his relatives. He can't easily be taken away from them."

'_Oh no; he's going to take me back_,' Harry thought, terrified, and his eyes widened when the woman suddenly pulled a stick out of her pocket.

"Harry, I'm going to transfigure you back now," the woman announced and slowly waved her stick over him.

To his surprise, Harry felt himself change back into his human form, noticing that he felt much worse than before. He unconsciously let out a small moan and curled up to a tight ball in a faint attempt to get warm. The woman gently draped the covers up to his chin and carefully placed an ice-cold hand on his forehead.

"Albus, he is burning up," she said, sounding alarmed as she waved her hand and pulled a very old looking thermometer out of thin air. "Please take his temperature, while I try to contact Severus. Too bad that Poppy is still on holidays for another five days." She handed the old man the thermometer and hurriedly left the room.

'_Oh no_,' Harry thought, terrified, when the man stepped to his side, and without knowing what he was doing, he jerked aside, onto the other side of the double bed.

"Harry, I'm not going to hurt you," the old man said in confusion. "I just need to take your temperature."

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled and slowly robbed himself back to the spot, on which the lady had placed him earlier. He shot the old man a frightened look when he took a seat on the edge of the bed and ordered him to open up, before he surprisingly carefully stuck the thermometer under his tongue. Harry shivered violently at the cold touch. '_I just hope the woman will come back soon. She was nice_,' he thought, inwardly sighing in relief when he saw from the corner of his eyes that she entered the room and took the spot on the edge of his bed, which the old man vacated immediately.

"He seems to be afraid of me," Harry heard him whisper, but he felt too miserable to care.

"I am Minerva McGonagall, and this is my husband, Albus Dumbledore," the woman said in a soft voice. "We're both teachers here at Hogwarts. Did your relatives tell you about Hogwarts?" she queried, just when the thermometer announced that the reading was finished. She carefully plucked the device from his lips, and her eyes widened at the result. "Albus, his fever is very high; 39.8. Thank Merlin Severus promised to come as soon as he could interrupt his brewing process."

"Hogwarts?" Harry asked tiredly.

"Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry," the woman supplied kindly. "All magical children from the age of eleven onwards attend Hogwarts, just like you're supposed to come here in a few years' time."

"Magical?" Harry whispered in disbelief.

The professor began to explain that he was a wizard, and that his parents had been magical as well. She also said that she had been a good friend of his mother after she graduated from Hogwarts and that she had often baby-sat Harry when he was small. However, Harry was not sure if the woman was really talking to him, or if it was his fever induced imagination, because the old man began to breathe ice at him through his long, white beard, making him shiver violently.

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Minerva observed the child in utmost concern and sighed gratefully when she heard the fireplace flare and her husband went to lead their youngest colleague into their bedroom. Severus immediately strode to the child, who had fallen asleep in the meantime. The Potions Master gripped the boy's wrist and felt his pulse, before he took a Muggle stethoscope out of the black bag that he had brought and carefully pulled the boy's baggy T-shirt up to listen to the boy's breathing.

"Bronchitis," he said thoughtfully. "However, he is very dehydrated, and we have to be careful that it doesn't turn into pneumonia," he added, placing two phials on the night table. "The green one is the potion for lung infections. Give him two spoonfuls of it every six hours. If his breathing worsens, you may give it to him every four hours, but only if necessary, because he is very small and thin compared to our eleven-year-olds. The fever reducer he needs every four hours until his fever breaks. Call me again if it gets significantly higher. Otherwise, I'll come to check on him again tomorrow morning."

"Thank you so much, Severus," Minerva replied gratefully, appreciating that her colleague behaved so civilly as he treated the child of his worst childhood enemy.

"I'll spell the potions into his system for the time being," Severus announced and pointed his wand consecutively at the two phials and at Harry.

Minerva and Albus thanked their younger colleague profusely, and the Headmaster escorted him back to the fireplace, while Minerva gently tucked the sleeping Harry in and placed a cold towel on his hot forehead. Noticing in relief that his breathing had become much more regular, she quietly left the room to speak with her husband about the Dursleys.

"Albus, they let him go to school in spite of being sick, and then Mr. Dursley locked him in the car for hours. He could have died from the heat and dehydration," she said in an upset voice as she lowered herself onto the sofa next to her husband.

"I'll go and speak with the Dursleys," the Headmaster replied thoughtfully. "It is essential that Harry resides with them. You may nurse him back to health, but then..."

"Albus, no," Minerva interrupted him vehemently. "He begged me not to take him back there and told me that his relatives hate him, which is probably because he is a wizard. They didn't even tell him about magic. No Albus, you can't send him back to an abusive home. He'll be safe and sound here with us."

"We'll speak with Harry and ask him about his home situation," her husband finally relented. "And then we'll decide what to do with little Harry."

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By the time Harry woke up and blinked, it was already dark. Only small torches along the walls slightly lit the comfortable bedroom. When he heard the older woman's voice, he realised that he had woken up because someone was lightly touching his shoulder.

"Harry, how're you feeling?" her soft voice penetrated his ears.

"Fine," he mumbled sleepily, aware enough to know that he wasn't allowed to complain.

"I doubt that," the kind lady said gently and motioned for him to open his mouth, so that she could take his temperature. Seeing that he was shivering badly at the cold touch in his mouth, she carefully pulled his head onto her lap and gently cradled him close.

'_Feels good_,' Harry thought in surprise as she began to gently stroke his face with her cold hands and brush errand strands of hair from his forehead. By the time Minerva carefully pulled the thermometer out, he was already falling asleep again.

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Minerva frowned. Harry's fever was still very high. "No sweetie, don't go back to sleep yet. You have to take your potions first," she informed him and gently pushed him into a half-sitting position, before she held out a spoonful of potion for him.

"What's that?" Harry asked in apparent confusion.

"Potions, Harry; medicine," Minerva said softly and explained what Severus had told her earlier.

"But I'm not supposed to get medicine," Harry croaked, "only the good people are allowed to get some."

To Minerva's relief, her husband just entered the room and had heard what Harry said. "No Harry, you are supposed, you even have to take the medicine to make you feel better." He sat on the other side of the bed, noticing in shock that Harry unconsciously leaned away from him and nestled deeper into Minerva's embrace.

"No Uncle, please don't hurt me. I promise I'll be good. I won't do any freakish things," Harry croaked, apparently beginning to panic.

"It's all right, sweetie. It's Albus and not your uncle. He won't do anything to you," Minerva said soothingly, using the child's distraction to pry a spoonful of potion into his mouth.

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During the next few days, Harry's condition slowly improved under Minerva's care, and he was aware enough to realise that he found himself not in Minerva's bed anymore, but in an equally soft and comfortable smaller bed in a very nice small room that was decorated in different shades of blue. However, he still flinched back badly whenever the Headmaster approached him and even leaned away in fright, when Professor Snape came to check on him.

"It's all right, Harry. That's Professor Snape, our Potions Master. He has been checking on you a few times, and he is the one who brewed the potions for you," Minerva said gently, and Harry grudgingly agreed to allow the black clothed professor to touch him.

However, a few days after Minerva had picked Harry up, she came down with the bronchitis as well, and Professor Snape forbade her to leave her bed at all, not even to check on Harry. Harry was devastated, when only the Headmaster came to check on him and tried to make him drink some water or pumpkin juice. He turned to his side, facing the wall, before he curled up in a small ball and resolved to wait for Minerva to come back to him. '_Maybe she noticed that I'm only a burden and a good-for-nothing freak and won't come back_,' he thought, fighting back the tears that began to well in his eyes.

"Harry, I need to check on you, and you have to take your potions and drink something," Albus said in a soft voice. "I'm afraid that Minerva caught the bronchitis from you and won't be able to look after you today."

'_Oh no; I got her sick_,' Harry thought, feeling absolutely horrified at the idea. '_Now she won't keep me here anymore. She won't want to even see me again_.' He silently began to cry.

"Harry, you can either comply, or I have to make you comply with magic," the Headmaster threatened but dismissed the thought, afraid that Harry would despise him even more if he pulled through with his threat. However, Harry didn't give in during the rest of the day but drifted in and out of fevered dreams, during which he begged him not to hurt him. Albus became worried and called the Potions Master.

"Severus, maybe you'll be able to help me," he said gravely. "Harry is so afraid of me that he shut off completely. He didn't drink or eat anything today, not even his potions. Minerva said that he is afraid of me, because he is abused, but I don't think so. His uncle wouldn't do anything to him. Do you think I should force him with magic? He might hate me even more afterwards."

The Potions Master glared at the Headmaster. "Albus, of course he is abused by his uncle. I only witnessed one of his nightmares, but he is begging his uncle not to hurt him. That's why Minerva always had to hold his hand when I checked on him. I can try to make him see reason, but I don't think that I'll have more luck." Snape quietly entered the boy's room, noticing from the corner of his eyes that Harry looked considerably worse than in the morning. His cheeks were deeply flushed, and his forehead was not sweaty anymore like it had been when his fever had been on its way down. He seemed to be awake, but he was lying on his bed apathetically and apparently didn't even notice the two wizards enter his room.

"Harry," the Potions Master addressed him in the softest voice that he could muster. "Will you let me check on you, child? Minerva is still very ill, and it might take a few days, before she'll be able to care for you again."

Harry slowly opened his eyes just a little bit and croaked, "She won't want to see me again. I'm only a burden, and now I made her sick."

"No Harry, that's nonsense," Snape replied, surprised how gentle he heard himself speak to the son of his childhood enemy. "It's not your fault, and you're not a burden to anyone. However, you have to take your potions and drink enough, so that you will get back to health. May I touch you to check on you?"

Harry wearily eyed the tall wizard. "Kay," he finally agreed, feeling too miserable to care what was happening anymore.

Twenty minutes later, Harry drifted off to sleep with his belly full of potions, water and pumpkin juice and his left arm connected to an I.V. "Albus, I do not recommend sending him back to his family. He shows all the signs of an abused child," the Potions Master quietly informed the Headmaster.

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While Harry and Minerva were slowly recovering under Professor Snape's care, the Headmaster spoke with the Dursleys and filled in several documents, which he sent to the Ministry of Magic.

When Harry woke up one morning, he noticed in relief that the I.V. was gone and he felt much better. '_I hope Minerva will also be better soon_,' he thought. '_I miss her. She was so nice to me_.' Just when an inner voice spoke up and told him that the two wizards were very kind too, Albus entered the room.

"Good morning, Harry. Professor Snape told me that you may get up and visit Minerva for a few minutes, if you feel well enough to do so," the Headmaster said gently.

Harry happily agreed and hesitantly followed the old man into Minerva's bedroom.

"Good morning, my boy," Minerva said in a kind, even if still hoarse voice. "Harry, Albus and I gained the guardianship over you. You will never have to return to your relatives. This is your home now."

"Really?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Yes my boy," Albus confirmed, "and I promise that I will never hurt you."

"I love you, Harry. I've always thought of you as of my grandson, and I'm very happy to have you here," Minerva added, smiling.

'_My home_,' Harry thought, noticing tears well in his eyes. '_I have a real home and magical people, who are my guardians, because they want it. I'm the happiest boy in the world_.' He smiled at Minerva and allowed himself to be pulled into a bear hug.

**The End**


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